


The Paint War

by ALoafOfBread



Category: Mr Tricklebank, Original Work
Genre: Awh <3, Bonding, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Fun, Hugs, Mr Tricklebank is actually incredibly sweet and he loves his girl, Painting, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sweet, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALoafOfBread/pseuds/ALoafOfBread
Summary: Your expression twisted into a smile. You grabbed the paint bottle with both hands and looked up mischievously at the older man.“Well, if you love paint so much, then here!” You exclaimed as you squeezed the bottle, squirting paint all over Mr Tricklebank’s grey button-up shirt. A few specks of paint flew across his beard, staining his face purple. He winced as he felt the cold liquid come into contact with his skin. He looked down at his shirt, which was now covered almost entirely with purple paint.He grinned, looking up and locking eye contact with you. “Oh, you’re on.”~~~~~OR~~~~~You and Mr Tricklebank have a paint war in the art classroom. You end up finding out a bit more about each other than you'd expected. Fluffy hugs ensue.
Relationships: Mr Tricklebank & Reader, Mr Tricklebank/Reader
Kudos: 1





	The Paint War

Your expression twisted into a smile. You grabbed the paint bottle with both hands and looked up mischievously at the older man. 

“Well, if you love paint so much, then here!” You exclaimed as you squeezed the bottle, squirting paint all over Mr Tricklebank’s grey button-up shirt. A few specks of paint flew across his beard, staining his face purple. He winced as he felt the cold liquid come into contact with his skin. He looked down at his shirt, which was now covered almost entirely with purple paint. 

He grinned, looking up and locking eye contact with you. “Oh, you’re on.” 

Tricklebank moved in a flash, faster than you had ever seen him. In a split second, he had yanked the bottle from your grasp and had positioned it pointing towards you. You felt your eyes widen in shock. You were screwed, but you knew that you weren’t going to be taken down without a fight. 

As Tricklebank fired some of the remaining paint towards you, you ducked and dodged the spray, giggling as you ran away from the man. You maneuvered through the tables, trying to put some space between Jordan and yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a few wet paint brushes resting on top of a table and grabbed them as you went past. 

“You’re not going to be able to get me, Jordan!” You exclaimed, shooting a mock glare at the man. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle your laughter. 

Tricklebank chuckled. A deep, hearty laugh that resonated from deep within his throat and conveyed the most genuine elation he had ever felt. He chased after you, however, you were now armed with your own weapon. You raised your paintbrush into the air like a sword, smiling deviously. 

When Tricklebank was near enough, he lunged. 

You giggled as you ran around the room, dodging Tricklebank’s attempts to grab you but unable to avoid the splatters of paint flying through the air as he frantically squeezed and waved the bottle around. The paint landed with a splash on your school uniform, staining your clothes with red blotches. 

Flecks of paint coated your arms as you lifted them up in an attempt to shield your face. Snickering, you sent your own spray of paint back towards the man. 

Together, you two laughed and screamed as you chased each other around the room in circles, each with the goal to cover the other in as much paint as you could. It was surely the most intense paint war either of you had ever had. 

Tricklebank held the tube of paint high above his head, positioned straight at you, and squeezed. However, nothing came out. His eyes widened in alarm as he realised that the tube was now empty. Its contents were now sprayed out all over the classroom and the girl in front of him. 

You, realising what was going on, turned back towards Tricklebank with the most mischievous grin on your face. “Looks like you’re out of ammo, sweetie.” You swiped your paintbrush in a nearby tray. Now with your weapon reloaded, you rushed towards the man. Tricklebank had a look of fear on his face. He tried to escape, but it was too late. You weaved through the desks and chairs with speed, landing down on top of Tricklebank and smearing what was left on the paintbrush onto his face. 

He gasped, and while you were preoccupied with laughing at the state he was in, he scrambled away as far as he could get. As Jordan ran, he caught a glance at his reflection in the window. His hair, which was usually straightened out neatly with gel, was in a frenzied mess. Locks and stray strands of hair flew out in every direction. Various slashes and smudges of paint covered his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. His shirt, which was once considered formal and neat, was now just a swirling mess of cloth and colour. He looked like he’d come straight out of a child’s messy finger painting. At the back of his mind, Jordan realised that the shirt which his mother bought for him had been ruined. 

“Oh my god you are so done for,” Tricklebank grinned, head snapping around to face you. 

You let out a small squeak and ran to stock up your supply of paint. You were too slow, though. Adrenaline rushed through Jordan, giving him energy that he didn’t have previously. He chased after you, faster than ever before. Instead of drenching you head to toe in paint, however, Jordan spun you around. He wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you close to him. 

“You little shit” Jordan laughed as he pressed your body against his, hugging you tight. 

You hated hugs, and he knew it. You were going to absolutely hate this and Jordan couldn’t wait to see your reaction. 

But this time, it was different. Somehow, you didn’t mind. 

For some unknown reason, you didn’t feel the strong, gnawing feeling inside of you. The desire to push away and punch whoever had touched you. Your muscles relaxed as you sank into the warmth of Tricklebank’s body. His touch made the room seem a little warmer, somehow. 

You felt… safe. As if nothing in the world could hurt you as you were shielded by the man’s arms. It felt strangely protective. The world around you seemed to melt away as you squeezed the man back, not minding at all the mess of wet paint on the front of his shirt. Your breathing slowed, becoming more relaxed.

Distantly, Jordan was shocked by the lack of reluctance from you. But it barely registered to him in the moment. Everything just felt right with his arms wrapped tightly around his girl. The warmth of being with you made him extremely happy. Jordan stroked your hair and pulled you closer into his chest, resting the edge of his chin on your head. 

In what felt like all too soon, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You stared intently into each other’s eyes for a moment. Dark brown irises mixing into pitch black. Jordan felt himself become lost in your eyes. Both of you felt like you had discovered a new part within the other. Something others rarely ever got to see. 

Tricklebank chuckled. Who knew that, in time, he’d eventually form an unbreakable bond with one of his students?

“Hey?” The man started nervously. 

“Yeah, what is it?” You asked, eyes still locked with Tricklebank’s. 

Jordan took a cautious step, moving closer to those eyes that looked so deeply into his own. Your breathing became softer. Your usual blank expression melted into a smile as soft as the morning light. Something about Tricklebank’s gaze… Something about that gaze of his that you knew you would never find in another man. 

Tricklebank smiled back at the girl in front of him. “I lo-”

“Okay, sorry to break the moment.” A voice interrupted. 

Fuck, they had completely forgotten about him. 

Both startled, heads whipping towards the table at the back, where your classmate had apparently sat for the entire time, watching your whole affair. 

“You guys make a great couple, y’know that?” The boy stated casually. 

You felt the heat rise to your face. You knew for certain that you were turning red from embarrassment, and from the looks of it, Jordan was, too. 

“W-what! No! It’s not like that!” You exclaimed suddenly, backing away from the man. 

Jordan snarled at the boy, expression changing in a fraction of a second. “Get out of here, now, before I turn you into a dish towel again!”

“Woah, alright. Hold your horses. No need for that kind of violence” The boy put his hands up in defeat, and slowly backed out of the classroom. The door closed behind him with a snap. 

There was a moment of silence. Jordan turned towards you. He looked you up and down and couldn’t help but burst out laughing. 

“What!?” You exclaimed, face still tinted a shade of red. “Nothing’s funny about this situation!” 

Jordan just laughed harder. 

“Oh shut up!” You said, punching Jordan playfully in the shoulder. “This isn’t funny!”

The giggles that escaped your mouth said otherwise. This was one of the weirdest situations you had ever gotten yourself into. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Tricklebank grabbed hold of one of your hands, entwining his large fingers with your smaller ones and held tight. You watched silently as he pulled on your hand, leading you towards the doorway. “Let’s see what Vinnie’s up to,” Jordan said, an unmistakable hint of fondness in his voice. your lips quirked upwards in a small smile. 

You two walked off towards the M block, hand in hand. Tricklebank’s hand held tightly onto your own. You looked up towards the older man, smiling, and couldn’t help but lean into his touch. 

You truly did love spending time with him.


End file.
